


Forever And Always (As Long As We Have Each Other)

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Prison, Flashback containing Torture, I wasn't lying when I said this would get dark, Implied/Referenced Sexual Content (briefly), M/M, Medical Torture, Minor Original Character(s), Not Beta Read, Original Character Death(s) mentioned, Past Torture, Permanent Injury, Prison AU, Psychological Torture, Read at Your Own Risk, Smith (and by extension Hatsome) have all gone through Hell in this universe, Tags May Change, Tags will be updated as the story progresses, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why Did I Write This?, dystopian au, established relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-09-01 23:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20266423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: T/W : Rythian has a flashback describing the events (in this AU) of Smith's torture and subsequent permanent injury two years prior. No spoilers but while it's not gorey or too overly descriptive, I figured it was worth mentioning. If any of this, to your knowledge, could potentially trigger or upset you. I strongly suggest you turn back now. Please.





	1. Reunited Once More

It was back-breaking work and he felt sick, they all did, but there was nothing to be done about it. A sharp pain struck Lewis in the chest from deep within. One hand reached for the stability of the concrete wall ahead of him, while his other clasped his chest in agony. Cold shivers shot through Lewis' body and both his hands and legs were trembling.

"Get up, scum. Back to work." Lewis' hand scrabbled up the wall, and he forced his feet to shuffle forward. Slowly, he used his body's leverage against the hard, cold surface to pick himself up. It wasn't for long though, the guard clubbed him and it landed across his face. He fell to his knees again, and seeing no point in arguing, went back to work.

Their job, picking oakum. Old ropes and cords, things like that. Unraveling and unwinding the worn pieces until they are just coarse, stabby fibers. A job from another century. Everyone's fingers cracked and bled. Lewis can't remember the last time his weren't sore. A small mercy was brought by the bell, an old brass one, clanging twice. Lewis Brindley, Prisoner 350192, sighed utterly exhausted. His shift, _their_ shift was over.

With another sigh and an even deeper breath, he fell into line with his fellow prisoners. A slow slog of a journey awaited them as they watched other lines of prisoners hobble and limp past. Eventually, they were cleared by the guards to begin moving. Not walking or marching, just moving. _Shambling, really, a bit like zombies. Fitting, we are the undead after all. _Lewis pushes the stupid thought from his mind and focuses on steadying each of his steps and (more importantly) his breathing. Asthma was a cold-hearted bitch before all of this shit. Now...

Zylus is already waiting for him, of course he is. He doesn't want to know how. Although knowing Zylus, it involved giving somebody a _favor_ to get back in time. Probably a blowjob. Lewis smiled weakly at Zylus' shy mini-wave. Zylus despite being _in the middle of brushing his teeth_ was quick to push open their cell door for Lewis - even if it was just with his foot. Lewis was equally as lightning fast as he shut it behind him, drawing a makeshift bedsheet-curtain over the small rectangular window. Zylus almost immediately abandoned his toothbrush on the rim of their sink, opting instead to rush in Lewis' direction and kiss him gently, softly cupping his face. Careful to avoid the newly forming bruise.

The kiss tasted minty but also slightly salty. Lewis smiled despite the pain from his swelling cheek, _he was right_. Zylus stayed quiet, holding him close for a second longer before murmuring, "Missed you."

Lewis felt all of the tension in his shoulders relax. "Missed you too, Zy." They were back in the relative safety of their cell. "Welcome back," Zylus said at a normal volume.

Before Lewis could say anything, Zylus was happily leading him over to their bed, a standard issue L-shaped bunk bed. The aluminum frame creaked as both Lewis and Zylus sat down. Cheap fucking thing. Small too, with just enough room for a small dresser to be wedged in next to the lowest bunk. Zylus, careful not to disturb Lewis' arm wrapped around his shoulder, opened one of the drawers in the weird side dresser and grabbed a small jar of Vaseline. "Y'know. A gentleman would've brought me dinner first."

Zylus rolled his eyes at Lewis' bad joke, unscrewing the lid off the petroleum jelly and carefully getting some on his fingers. "This might sting a bit," Zylus advised and Lewis nodded. Grabbing Lewis' chin with his free hand, he carefully spread the Vaseline on Lewis' scraped up cheek. "Ow." 

"You big baby. Hope it doesn't hurt too much," Zylus whispered in Lewis' ear before he planted a kiss on the top of his forehead. "It won't. I was lucky. 'Tis but a flesh wound." Zylus again reached behind him into the drawer, grabbing a small box of Band-Aids. Smuggled in by the American Red Cross. "Easy, it isn't that bad. 'M not bleeding. That box is worth at least 300x times its weight in gold. Don't waste it on this, a glorified Monty Python reference."

Zylus shook his head but still he got up, walked around the bed, and put the box away. Meanwhile Lewis simply kicked off his prison-issued white Converse knock-offs and lied down. Looking up at Zylus, Lewis waved him over and patted the bed. A long time ago, Zylus would've laughed or asked, "What are we? Two 12-year-old girls at a sleepover?" But now, he doesn't give a damn and lies down facing Lewis, interlocking their fingers as they hold hands. The twin bed couldn't really fit both of them, but it didn't matter. Nothing else in that moment did.

Then Lewis has a question. "When's your next shift?" which, by now, had also de facto included the unspoken question of "_What's_ your next shift?" Weekly rotation, with some official horseshit tacked on about not wanting prisoners to "fraternize". A falser thing has never been spoken, instead it was all about suppressing opposition to the guards. Can't plan an escape if you're dead tired and don't trust the guy sitting next to you. A boyfriend's fine, harmless, a riot definitely isn't. At least, not if you ask the guards.

"Trash incinerator. All next week. I''ll be shoveling plastic and God knows what else into a giant fire," Zylus sighs and then murmurs, "Probably does wonders for my lungs." A complete silence fell between them, Lewis petting Zylus' hair softly, moving a strand that had fallen into his boyfriend's eyes. 

"Hmm... I'm gonna try and see if I can't transfer to the Infirmary. Check on PFlax." Zylus nods, before kissing Lewis' hand and slipping out of bed. There's no way both of them could sleep comfortably on a twin mattress so Zylus climbs up into his bunk to go to bed. "Be careful, Lewis. About next week. Oh, and goodnight," Zylus whispers in the dark as "Lights Out" is shouted throughout the halls while each light blots out one by one in Cell Block C. "Goodnight to you too, Zylus."


	2. Home Sweet Cell

Their cell was slightly larger than average. If for nothing else than it had two people living in it. Their L-bunk was shoved in the far left corner of the white cinder-block room. Along the opposite wall, parallel to the foot of Lewis' bunk was a small steel dining table. Zylus spent 2 weeks in solitary after he carved a fairly decent checkerboard pattern into the top of it, so they could play chess with bottle caps occasionally. It was worth it. The matching stools slid underneath the table and were a privilege only non-violent offenders received, because they were the only bits of furniture that could be moved about.

On the other end of the far wall, a tiled corner represented the "bathroom". There was a small cubby for toiletries just above their toilet, right next to the sink. A shaving mirror, two pairs of wire frame glasses, couple toothbrushes, a bag of disposable razors, and a bar of butcher paper-wrapped soap sat inside it. A decent-sized bookshelf filled the last corner, with only a couple of the library's legal textbooks stacked on a lower shelf and a practically untouched Bible on one of the higher ones. 

When Zylus woke up, it was very much still dark. Peaceful. The calm, collected feeling that only comes with waking up at an impossible hour. Life's funny like that. He looked down over the edge of his bunk, at Lewis softly sleeping. Zylus smiled, completely reassured and went back to sleep. 

Three bells. Over and over and over. An inspection and probably a cell toss. _Great._ Zylus climbed down the ladder and shook Lewis awake, cautiously avoiding his cardiac implant. _Motherfucking bastards. _It was a means to control everyone, or almost everyone, foreigners were exempt in order to not piss off the international community. _Perk of being Dutch._ Not that anyone would stand up to _this_ New Britain, or whatever, not when they had America in their pocket. Lewis groggily opened his eyes and Zylus, sighing, hauled him up out of bed by the arm. Lewis was only confused and taken aback for a split second. "Inspection, no time. Help," Zylus breathed out. 

Lewis nodded and grabbed the sheet covering their cell door's window, taking it down and folding it. Passing it to Zylus, it went on the bookcase's lowest shelf. Lewis then stripped his bed and remade it as neatly as he could. Zylus bolted up the ladder and did the same. Being (mostly) model prisoners, they didn't need to waste time discarding or hiding contraband. The box of American plasters notwithstanding, that was squirreled away in the cistern of their toilet in a waterproof bag with other medical supplies. Instead, Lewis stacked all of their dishes and the coffee mugs on the table and used a stack of his notebooks to cover up their "chess set". 

"Cell search! Routine cell search. Stand in the middle of your cell, hands where we can see them!" Zylus and Lewis stood side by side and pressed their hands together for a brief moment before the guards opened the door and they both stepped apart. "Prisoner 350192, Prisoner 350237, step forward. Hands on your head." The pair complied, both getting handcuffed for their trouble. Lewis stepped forward first, a female guard grabbed him, and led him outside. But when Zylus tried to follow, he was held up. 

"Prisoner 350237, were you once known as Rick van Laanen?" The meathead jock of a guard demanded. "Yes, sir." "And you are a Dutch national?" "Yes, sir."

"Then on behalf of our two governments, I would like to officially acknowledge an agreement that certifies your release effective immediately." The words rang in Zylus' ears and he wasn't quite sure to believe them. "However—" _There was always a catch. _"However, Mr. van Laanen," a vaguely familiar gray-haired businesswoman entered the cell, black heels clicking against the smooth concrete floors. "-due to the European Union regrettably refusing to recognize New Britannia as the sovereign successor to the former United Kingdom. You are to remain here."

"So why tell me this?" _What do you gain from telling a slave that you could be losing slaves?_

"Because if we made a separate deal, based on the first, which is still pending. I could have you back home in the Netherlands in less than two hours," she offered. _Too good to be true. This is a trap._

"If _what_? I don't have any information. I'm not a diplomat's son. I mean, I was a YouTuber before. A Z-list celebrity."

"You give yourself so little credit. You were and in some ways still are a public figure. And besides, I _was_ a junior solicitor. Now, I'm running for Prime Minister. And _you_, you're good PR." _Wow. Cersei Lannister, she's not. This is a PR move, and she just played her entire hand, what the fuck._

Then Zylus realizes something, _why have a publicity stunt if you can have the real thing? _"Ahh, the benevolent New Britannic Prime Minister. _Your Highness_ makes a deal with the EU, EU citizens held hostage for prisoners of war, I'm guessing. Innocents are “saved", you regain lost troops and get more legitimacy on the world stage than the government-in-exile."

"How did you? I—" She was so shocked that she actually took a step back.

Zylus smiled charmingly, "Look, I played a lot of strategy games in my time. And my boyfriend, Lewis, he **only** talks about politics. Life in prison does that to you. Find somebody else. My answer is no."

She huffed, he had gotten right under her posh little skin. "You know, I'm well within my rights to deport you. Even if I'm not Prime Minister. Yet." He smiled.

"I'm sure. But then, the good PR evaporates. If you get rid of me secretly or deport me, no guarantees. And if I sold even _half_ of my story..." Her eyes widen and the stern look on her face is _gone_. Only just, but it was enough. Zylus saw her _fear_.

"What _do_ you want?"

"Both of us on a plane to Amsterdam. Which I doubt, because no country in Europe, never mind the EU, recognizes your government. Barring Russia, but they've always been dicks. Failing getting us out, I want you to leave Lewis and I alone. No more visits, no calls by you or your staff."

"What about your release? You _want_ to stay here, in prison?" She gestured around the cell, not even the size of his childhood bedroom.

"Lady, ever since your lot took power, the entirety of the UK has been a prison." 

"Shut it, Dutchman," the American guard said from beside the door. Zylus nodded. "Find your poster boy elsewhere. At least, here, I know what to expect."

"I said, shut it, you greasy shitstain. In fact, I—" "Leave him, Mr. Young. If he wants to stay, so be it." Mr. Young then escorted the future Prime Minister out the door. A few minutes later, the female guard brought back Lewis, who seemed rather pleased as he shut their cell door for some privacy. 

"Zylus, where were you? There was a massive feast in the dining hall. Like restaurant-quality food too, I swear Duncan was about to be sick when they finally dragged us away."

Zylus turned towards Lewis, crying and said, "I think I fucked up."

* * *

Sat on Lewis' bunk, Zylus still crying into his hands, Lewis patting his back. After what seemed like forever, he came up for a breath of air and Lewis leaned in and asked softly, "What happened?"

Zylus shook his head, still vacantly staring at his shoes. Eventually, he whispered. "Gave me the deal of a lifetime. I get to go home. I refused." Lewis recoiled, before launching into a lecture. "Why would you ever!? Zylus, you idiot-"

"Without you!" Zylus jumped up, pacing back and forth, 'She _never_ mentioned you! And then didn't say anything when I brought it up."

"Oh. Oh, c'mere Zylus." Lewis held out his hand and Zylus sat back down, head on Lewis' shoulder. Lewis wrapped his arm around Zylus, and Zylus - he looked up a bit and a faint grin was just barely there. "Yeah, whatever happens I'm staying right here."

"Then you're a noble idiot." Lewis sighed, "Wonder if anyone else took the deal?"

"I don't know. Rythian wasn't at the office with us. So he's probably still safe in Sweden and I haven't heard from Mousie since before we got picked up. And Sips, he was never arrested."

"Far as we know, it's been three years," Lewis pointed out. "Yes, Lewis. _As far as we know_. Then again, never imagined I'd be a political prisoner either."

Lewis hummed in agreement, before he sat upright, shrugging Zylus off of him. "Hey, what the hell, Lewis. I was comfortab—" Then Lewis grinned like a madman. "We never really had a first date, did we?"

"No, we didn't. If I recall, a military coup burned down Parliament and executed the Queen, Lewis." Lewis shrugged weakly, lips set in a grim line, "Yeah. That, _that_ did happen." Zylus shook his head, "God, that day was awful. Wait a minute—" Zylus laughed, "Mr. Brindley, are you asking me on a date?"

"Mr. van Laanen, I think I am," Lewis' smile dangled on the corner of his lips as he slowly got up and cheekily stole a kiss from Zylus. "Cafeteria, sundown, tomorrow."

"But—" Zylus' tilted his head and squinted at Lewis, "But what about the guards? What someone _sees_ us?"

"Don't worry, I convinced them to look the other way. All we have to do is stay quiet and be back here before tomorrow's head count. For now, chess or Scrabble?"

"Scrabble."

"No Dutch words you haven't taught me yet."

"Ugh, fine," he rolled his eyes dramatically, "Chess, then."


	3. A Birdcage's Picnic

"You- You come here often?" Lewis in his <strike>best worst</strike> cowboy accent. Sitting on a gingham flannel picnic blanket. _Where'd he even get one of those?_

Zylus wants to be smart or clever. Maybe say something equally as cheesy like "Not often, baby. Only when hot stuff is about." Instead because of Lewis' voice crack, he bursts out laughing. He falls onto the picnic blanket, still crying with laughter. After a while, Lewis can't help laughing too. 

"Shh... We're getting too loud, but I _do_ have some food," Lewis whispers as Zylus mimes shutting his mouth and throwing away the key. Here, right now, it's easy to pretend. Pretend they are both teenagers, hiding from Lewis' parents most likely, he can't imagine Dutch parents being so (overtly) homophobic. Scared of getting caught, not because of a beating or getting an additional useless, hollow decade added to their sentences but because of snide remarks and passive-aggressive smarmy Britishness. Things, Lewis knew, they both would've gotten past eventually. Had he come out earlier, had he'd grown up with the handsome man beside him, had he not been born almost a decade _before_ Zylus.

Or, they were star-crossed lovers. In a medieval fantasy land. Lewis, a handsome knight and Zylus, a debonair inventor ushering a golden age together through clandestine meetings. To plan and create a magic-based Industrial Revolution. Or- "Lewis, Earth to Lewis." Or they're in reality, on a prison cafeteria floor, about to eat stale sandwiches, leftovers stolen from yesterday's feast. Lewis sighs. Zylus shifts a little, still laying back but now propped up onto his elbows.

"Gelukkige verjaardag," Zylus whispers in Lewis' ear. "I thought you threw away the key," Lewis smiles again. Zylus mimes unzipping his mouth and repeating, "Happy anniversary, Lewis."

Lewis frowned, "I understood you the first time." Zylus puts a comforting hand on Lewis' shoulder, "I know you did. C'mon, I was being funny. I'm sorry if I upset you."

He raised an eyebrow, sitting up, with his hand now on Zylus' knee, "Sorry enough to speak Dutch the rest of evening?" 

"Hahaha, no. Never understood why **that** was one of your kinks." Lewis deflated, quickly moving his hand away, before Zylus could say any— A wailing alarm blares, so loud it drowns out anything else, much like an old air raid siren, the lights come on and then turn red. Lewis jumps out of his skin, as Zylus gets to his feet. "Lewis, take my hand." Lewis, of course, can't hear him but he takes his hand anyway, and they run.

A bit like headless chickens. They can't go back to their cell, after all. The entirety of Graveworth is on lockdown. "We're going to get caught," Zylus tries to yell over the noise to no avail. "There," Lewis points to an unlocked janitorial closet. "There? Okay, then."

Zylus pushes the door with his left hand, his right still entwined with Lewis'. But the door doesn't budge, even though it's cracked open. By now, the alarm has died down somewhat, but Graveworth is still awash in red light. And guards for that matter. It isn't safe here. Zylus tries the door again, and only now do they hear a muffled "Oww..." through the door. Hang on, that voice was familiar. "Duncan?"

"Lewis?"

"Hi, Zylus also here."

"Zylus?" A familiar Swedish voice whispered. One they hadn't heard in 3 nearing 4 years.

"Rythian?"

"Wait, please don't tell me." Lewis groans. _A quickie in a closet? Really?_

"No, well, yes. Duncan and I are dating. And I am, technically, here on a conjugal visit but... it wasn't like that, I swear..." Rythian says through the door weakly.

Duncan— He clears his throat and interrupts before Rythian can dig himself into an even deeper hole, "We were planning an escape attempt tonight. And we're decent, _not_ that you were wondering," suddenly Duncan moves his leg out of the way and Rythian pulls both of them inside by the collars, before Duncan can even finish saying, "Get in here, quickly." 

"Shut the door." Zylus does, still panting from running. The room is small, but this corridor is out-of-the-way enough for them to be relatively unnoticed. Rythian is still awkwardly blushing, sat on an old paint bucket as a stool. Duncan is sat, in between shelves on the cobweb-infested floor, his feet holding the door shut as a last defense. Leaning against one of the disused steel shelves, Lewis asked, "So what _was_ the plan?"

Rythian shrugged, his blush evaporating as soon as the serious whispering began. "Bribe a guard, meet Duncan here, leg it, and sneak him aboard a ship bound for Stockholm. Then get back on my flight, act none the wiser, and wait to meet up until he can apply for asylum."

"But now they've noticed I've gone," Duncan added. "So Plan B?" Zylus asked folding his arms and looking over at a wary Lewis. "Plan B," Rythian pauses to kiss Duncan's hand, "is to hide here until the morning." Duncan nodded before jumping in to clarify, "Wait until everyone thinks we've already escaped _and_ then go." 

Lewis scowled, "Too late for that, with Zylus and I also missing, they'll be on high alert." Zylus nodded in agreement with Lewis, "If we're going, we need to go now."

"_We_?" Rythian repeats in disbelief. "Well, if you're going, we are too. You aren't leaving us here."

"Zylus is right, Ryth. You haven't seen what I have. Lewis can't handle it here. His asthma's gonna get him _killed_ one of these days." Normally, Lewis would try to argue that he isn't _that_ helpless. But there's a time and a place, and it's not here right now. Besides, he could only go so far with meditation and breathing exercises. He'd break out of Graveworth a million times over if he could have a rescue inhaler again.

"I guess that's settled then. What's _your_ plan?" Rythian asks with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, clearly waiting on Lewis...


	4. Midnight (A New-ish Plan)

Lewis pushes his glasses up the brim of his nose, smiling grimly. "Well, Rythian. I don't have one. But Plan A still seems like our best shot." Duncan nods, slowly standing, careful not to make any noise. "But with all the extra guards, Lewis?" Zylus frowns. Rythian gestures to Duncan, "Show them." Duncan sighs but lifts up his grey pullover to reveal a 9mm tucked into the elastic waistband of his highlighter blue jumpsuit. "Jesus," was all Lewis could think to say.

"It's for emergencies only, if that helps," Duncan explains sheepishly with a weary look towards Zylus' shocked expression. "Wher-? _How_?" 

"It's best if you don't know, Zylus. Suffice to say, it wasn't cheap," Rythian shuts him down, with a hardened look. Lewis nods. It doesn't matter. "Here's hoping we don't have to use it. Now, you said 'leg it', I assuming to a getaway car... Otherwise we won't be going far."

Duncan nods, fixing his pullover to hide the pistol again. "Getaway bus, actually, Lewis. One of the infirmary ones, it's scheduled to drop off patients every couple of hours. Rythian fixed it with the transport's guard. He'll let us on as he's leaving." The lockdown was long over by now but the alarm still rang in their ears. It didn't help security was most likely still swarming the grounds. 

Rythian pulls out something that they - Lewis and Zylus - haven't seen in years. Zylus grins, while Lewis teases, "I thought you had an Android." Rythian smiles, his attention broken as he realizes what they're staring at. His "work" phone.

"Nope, not for a few years now. They sold out to the New Brits," Rythian mumbles, while checking his texts. He looks up and they're still staring, so he held it up and waved it. "So iPhone 13." Then a notification pings on it. A triumphant sound, considering the circumstances. Rythian checks it again, and announces, "We need to go, now." He stands, putting the phone back on silent, and after triple-checking the door, he peeks his head out into the corridor. "It's clear. Let's go."

Single file, cautiously, they exit. Lewis and Duncan smirk, Zylus barely holds in a laugh. Rythian rolls his eyes. _Children. All of them._ "Coming out of the, we all get-" Rythian says a little too loudly. "Shhh, Rythian," Duncan yanks him back by the collar as they were rounding a corner. _Master of Stealth doesn't necessarily apply IRL_, Lewis thinks suppressing a snicker. The guard, thankfully, continued down in the opposite direction. _Though video game logic is more accurate than it seems. _

They double back into the cafeteria, making a right into the industrially sized kitchen. Duncan shepherds the two greenhorns over by the giant cauldron of a stand mixer, while Rythian braces himself against the fire door. "Move quick," are his last words before flinging the door open, triggering the fire alarm as well as the lockdown alarms. Zylus and Lewis rush out the door, out into an open field, outside of the barbed wire fence and the brick walls. They look back at Duncan, both rendered speechless, as he's giving Rythian a farewell kiss. "Go! Now! Before I change my mind," he tosses his 9mm towards Zylus, who scrambles to pick it out of the wet mud.

"I love you. So much," Rythian replies, after breaking the kiss and revealing a pistol of his own. Turning off the safety, he runs to catch up with Lewis and Zylus. They bolt for the tree line and don't stop until long after their legs burn and Lewis begins wheezing. Eventually, Lewis starts hacking coughing and they are forced to stop. He slumps over against a tall old oak tree and Rythian, taking a minute to fish it out of his jacket, hands him a rescue inhaler. Zylus' eyes go wide. "You weren't here for Duncan. You were here for _us_."

Lewis raises a finger to show he has something to say, and exhales after the Albuterol has had the time it needs to get in his lungs. He guesses, anyway. Finally, he shouts, "What the FUCK was that back there!? Why did we leave Duncan behind!?"

Rythian looks at him with hurt in his eyes. "Someone _has_ to be the fall guy. They need _someone_ to blame," And his face hardens again, "It was supposed to be me. But Duncan, of course, had different ideas." With a sigh, he turns and confidently states, "He'll be fine, OK? He will. There's a secret passage back to his cell block, and to be honest, we need someone inside. We need a mole. For right now, what _we_ need to do, is keep moving. Here," he points out an old, overgrown abandoned car. It was completely rusted out, the windows were either smashed up or missing, but the bonnet looked (reasonably) intact. "You _knew_ this was going to be here?" Zylus looked over at Rythian, surprised.

"Not specifically, but go ahead, open it." Zylus did as he was asked, mainly because Lewis was still working on regaining control of his breathing.

There were three sets of "normal" clothes, all t-shirts, jeans, trainers. A couple of (new-ish) jumpers and one raincoat, all of it having seen better days. Apart from clothing, there was a first aid kit along with a travel-sized sewing kit. Digging around a tad more, Zylus came up with a few bottles of various (random) prescriptions (all expired, of course) and two waterproof nylon bags. Rythian gestured for him to speed things along and so, curiosity killing the cat, he opened them. All non-perishable foods, a couple of days' worth by Zylus' estimate. He gave Rythian a thumbs-up, before pulling the drawstrings shut again. Looks like satisfaction has brought it back, this time. 

"Okay, leave a set of clothes and a bag of food for Duncan but get dressed and take whatever you can carry. Leave the rest." Zylus pulled Lewis upright and handed him a change of the nondescript clothes. Rythian, as they were changing, busied himself by digging through the hidden armory compartment looking for ammo. He found half a box extra, which he further split in half to leave some for Duncan. Spying two old tactical knives in their sheaths, he grabbed those as well, quickly passing them to Zylus and Lewis. "Better than nothing," Lewis grumbled as he clipped it onto his belt, making sure it was hidden by his oversized jumper.

"Can't imagine you'd ever say that, Lew Lew." Lewis laughed, firing back, "Watch it, Ryth-Ryth." They both smiled. "We're losing daylight, and our headstart," Zylus observed, staring up at greying clouds. Rythian nodded, reloading and holstering his gun. And so they continued onwards, as the crow flies, desperately trying to keep out of sight of the main road into the Graveworth.

After what felt like hours, it being closer to early morning than to midnight now. Rythian raised his left hand and they stopped, afraid to even lie low because of the noisy crunching of dead leaves. Mysteriously, though the clouds were light grey and _they were in England_, there wasn't a drop of rain to be felt. Instead, there was a sound. Not far away from where Rythian had stopped them, they heard an engine roar to life. Zylus and Lewis grinned.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still have to get past _those_ guards," Rythian pointed out. Six heavily armed men were between them and the bright lights of the station's main building. This was bad news. Low visibility from the storm had been a key part of the plan. Rythian sighed heavily. _So the cat and mouse game isn't over. Yet, _he told himself.

They slipped through a hole in the fence. ducking under the barbed wire and Zylus wiped the grin off his face. Still, they could _see_ it. The old bus station. They had made it. Zylus whispered, hope on the edges of his tone, "Our ride's here, boys." Lewis bit his lip, "Tell me that again when we're on it." Everything to gain and nothing to lose. <strike>Here we go.</strike> Scratch that, they each had two things to lose, the other men beside them. A risk in that moment they all were gambling on. Now, here we go.

Rythian pulled a grenade out of his trench coat's pocket and before either Lewis or Zylus could react, he threw it. They cringed, Lewis covered his ears. Like it would really help any. A couple of seconds later, the device went off. A loud, popping crack noise and a ton of smoke. A flashbang. Startled and confused, the guards ran back towards the center of what was once upon a time a Waitrose car park. 

Seizing his opportunity, Rythian nudged forward and threw another, in the opposite direction. A mantra echoed in his head. _Distract and disorient, buy time._ While Zylus and Lewis fought past the earache and ran ahead to the nearest cover. Another rusted, this time burnt out shell of a car. Zylus, this time, took a deep breath from the inhaler and then sprinted towards the next closest building. 

An old maintenance shed. In reality it couldn't have stood there more than 5 years, maybe. _But that was still half a decade, half a decade long enough for Rythian to become a partisan badass, apparently._ There were gunshots, another grenade (with a proper explosion this time), and Lewis _really_ regretted the hand he was dealt. Zylus' hand on his shoulder snapped him out of shock and back into the current moment.

Rythian had caught with them and by then, there was only one more _uncooperative_ guard to deal to with. The traitor established _inside_ the bus station, responsible for checking out and checking in all of the prison transfers. Rythian directed them to sneak around back while he screwed a silencer on the end of his gun. They could hear the shot, he knew, even if it was muffled. Just like they'd heard all the others, but their opinions didn't matter to Rythian anymore. Especially _not_ with this one, with this case, it was _personal_. 

"Rythi— Hey, wai-" Two shots point blank, and she was dead. A loose end tied up. Rythian stepped back from the growing pool of blood, careful not to leave any identifying traces, as the door swung closed on it's own.

Rythian scoffed. He was lucky, he supposed, that it hadn't been anyone that Lewis or Zylus recognized. In some respect, that was good, helpful. In others, it was _worse. _Way worse_._ That she'd been a nameless kid, only half of Rythian's age. And yet, it was just another stroke of fate, a bout of coincidence that _she_ \- the twenty-something who'd sold out Zoey and Fiona - was here, on admin duty, today. At that, it seemed, Mother Nature finally broke and the soft spring rain began drizzling. A wiser man would have claimed there was to be some poetic justice in it, but a smarter man knew it to be simple coincidence. In that moment, he didn't know which to be. Thus, Rythian smiled sadly and found _Zylew_ semi-hidden on the other side of the station. The lovebirds. 

Curled up together on a bench, under a flickering single-bulb light, staring at one of the old yellowed newspapers that'd been abandoned forever ago. Simply waiting for a bus. The threats dealt with. All of the guards incapacitated or dead. _No one left to sound the alarm until morning and by then, we'll be long gone. _Rythian took a deep, steadying breath. 

Lewis looked up like a deer in headlights at the sound of footsteps and he tilts his head, a silent question asked as Ryth steps into the light. He lied effortlessly, "Don't worry. The blood. It's not mine. The clerk was going to sound the alarm." Zylus nodded, and that was that. They all kept a sharp eye out despite themselves.

Rythian checked the time. 5 more minutes, that'd be doable. It was super early in the morning after all. Not many would be out this way for hours, if not half a day. He sat wearily next to Lewis and balanced the 9mm on his knee. "Beep. Beep. MotherFUCKERS!!!" Then he smiled - properly grinned for the first time (all day) since leaving Duncan behind. 

Zylus just sat up and looked at Lewis, unable to place the familiar voice. Lewis, on the other hand, jumped up to yell at the drivers' side door, "Sips, you fuck!!!"

"What!? I knew you'd miss me."

"Miss you? You disappeared right after Nilesy. I thought you were dead, you dumb Canadian bastard."

"Like you're one to talk, Brindley. If anyone should be dead, it's you asthmatic shitheads. Like Jesus Christ, how weak are your lungs?"

"Oh, _really_? Chris, are we really—"

"No. No, you _really_ aren't," Rythian pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs deeply. "We don't have time for this." Zylus helplessly watching the exchange. "Lewis!" Another English voice shouted, "Get on the damn bus! I would much rather have to restart Triforce with you two chickenshits than die in the middle of nowhere!" Lewis laughed but Pyrion did have a point. _And_ Zylus was giving him the Death glare, so he begrudgingly boarded the bus. Destination : unknown.


	5. Wheels On The... Y'know What? You Already Know It.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W : Rythian has a flashback describing the events (in this AU) of Smith's torture and subsequent permanent injury two years prior. No spoilers but while it's not gorey or too overly descriptive, I figured it was worth mentioning. If any of this, to your knowledge, could potentially trigger or upset you. I strongly suggest you turn back now. Please.

There was a strange peace to be made now. The most normal of actions repeated after the most harrowing day of their lives. After the worst _years_ of their lives. Pyrion switched places with Sips, at his own insistence. "A broken rib didn't stop me from escaping. It's sure as Hell not going to stop me from driving." Not much could be said in response to that.

Anyway, they were on a back road and the likelihood of someone seeing a "civilian" driving a transport instead of the "official guard" was minimal. P Flax should have his fun. 

"I'll say this. Ever since New Britannia took power, things've been a lot quieter." Rythian commented, looking out the window, his head leant against the cool glass. Sips turned back, still wearing the stolen guards' uniform, and shrugged. Eventually, Zylus "spoke up", in a whisper, to not disturb a sleeping Lewis. Who was currently passed out and drooling against Zylus' bicep. He said one word, "Curfew."

Pyrion nodded, "That's how they got me. Missus Flax and the girls were at my in-laws visiting, and I stepped three steps from my door to have a smoke... And right place, man, wrong time. They nabbed me, in the dead of night. Needed someone to make '_an example_' out of. Claimed I was breaking into my own house."

"But I thought you vaped?"

"Vaping was banned ages ago, Rythian. Turns out it's a lot easier to control people if you limit their supply. Now, all you can get are these—"

"Shitty _low-nicotine_ cigarettes," Zylus moaned, cutting off Pyrion, "It's why I quit. Graveworth doesn't— _didn't_ even honor my medical prescriptions." _Talking about that place in the past tense takes some getting used to..._ "It's weird, right?" Rythian takes a chance.

"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I mean we thought we were going have to spend the rest of our lives there... Thinking about being _here_, driving _away_ from it, is a bit overwhelming." Zylus responds, more preoccupied with running his fingers through Lewis' hair, straight dark strands falling out of his fingertips before being gently combed up again. Rinse and repeat, while Lewis was snoring away, perfectly content in his boyfriend's arms.

It was such an innocent yet intimate moment, it made Rythian blush and look away. Sips, on the other hand, was preoccupied with a crossword puzzle - of all things. Head tucked down, tiny golf pencil scribbling on the thin scrap of "entertainment", clearly cut out of an old magazine. To keep it from tearing (and so he could write on it), Sips had clipped it into the guard's clipboard, choosing to ignore how bloodstained it had made the edges of the page. Rythian watched him for a second longer, as his face scrunched up and sighing, Sips had to ask, "Pyrion? How do you spell phosphorus?"

"I don't know. Ask chemistry boy over there."

Zylus shook his head, weakly protesting, "Guys, don't wake up Lewis."

"P-H-O-S-P-H-O-R-U-S. There. Quit playing around," Smith replied groggily, wiping sleep from his eye, with his left hand. His right arm was limp in a sling. 

"Glad to see that you're back in the land of the living," Pyrion commented with a smile, looking at the ginger man in the rear-view mirror. "How's the rest of the Mad Hatters?"

"Dunno. Trott and Ross are both still zombies back here." He yawned, "Considering we haven't slept in three days, we're doing fine."

Rythian nodded solemnly, playing with a loose string on his jacket, by one of the plasticy fake wooden buttons. Anything for a distraction, to avoid looking at Smiffy head-on. Because what Pyrion and Zylus hadn't commented on and Lewis was too asleep to notice, Rythian is haunted by. They burned his eye. Smiffy's eye, not out, but _over_. Scar tissue so disfiguring, it couldn't be described as anything less. The raised flesh had fused over his eye socket entirely, to the point where it was almost impossible to tell he'd had an eye at all.

It was done in retribution for facilitating a prior escape, reuniting a mum and two kids, before smuggling them onto Berlin. The catch was, they forced Rythian and the other captured Resistance members to _watch_.

* * *

The room was set up like an ordinary hospital room, albeit soundproof, and with less equipment. Alex Smith, once better known to the world just by his surname, was strapped to the bed. Rythian, he was sat in a folding chair, handcuffed, wrists in lap and fingers interlocked. Ross and Trott were forced to stand along the side wall, nearest the door. Parallel to the bed, but distinctly _not_ allowed to be "at the bedside". This was a torture chamber, after all.

_She_ was there. Rythian shook his head, he distinctly didn't want to remember _her_.

But to Smith's left, standing, there was Penelope, sweet Pen. An American exchange student, didn't deserve to be there nor had to be. She was dead in another three weeks' time. Hanged after Rythian's escape back home late last year. 

_Pen, she saved my life. _His mouth felt dry, as he put two and two together. To his right, Emily also handcuffed. But here's the thing Rythian will never forget, the cuffs were hitting her wrists constantly, as she wouldn't stop wringing her hands. Or trying to, at least. There wasn't much freedom of movement, so Em just kept hitting them against her knee. Muttering something in Welsh to herself. Rythian never asked what, but then it's been forever now. _Who knows if she'll remember?_

Then the doctor came in.

The tension was palpable, it was bitter on the tongue. No one knew what was coming. Expect for that doctor. Rythian squeezed his eyes shut harder, willing himself to _remember_. The room smelled like any good hospital room would, like bleach and antiseptic. That smell nauseates them all now. Now, here's where it gets not hazy, exactly, but _wrong_. Just a bit wrong. Nothing can be remembered just so, and a result, time skips.

Smith is screaming. Top of his voice. Endlessly. There's a smell of burning, burning hair, burning flesh. Penelope looked away. Em and Ross closed their eyes, but Rythian and Trott _chose_ to bear witness. And they will remember it for the rest of their lives...

This time, however, there's a hand on his shoulder. A disembodied voice, whispering in his ear, with comforting words. _That didn't happen. _Rythian barely manages as a distinct thought, before his eyes open, and his flashback melts away. 

* * *

A worried Pyrion stood over him, hand still placed on his right shoulder. Smith stands next to him, two years on from receiving his disfigurement, with a concerned look in his remaining eye. No one spoke until Sips yelled, "Snap out of it! We gotta move!" From _outside_.

Any other time, they all would've laughed. Maybe later, over drinks, but not now, not when they're still exposed. "Fuck, we're here already!?" Rythian asks as he stands, Pyrion and Smith backing up to give him space. Pyrion nods, "Phase two," before following Smith down the bus' steps and out the door.

Rythian double checks that he doesn't need to reload and he follows everyone into what can only be described as the next stop. A good place to lay low, if a little cliché. An old abandoned factory.


End file.
